More Images

Remembering the USS Leyte

37 killed 60 years ago

"All of a sudden there was a loud Whoomph!" Bill Ford of Oak Run recalled as he talked about the explosion that occurred on board the USS Leyte CV-32 when it exploded Oct. 16, 1953, at the Boston Naval Shipyard, at his home in Oak Run on Thursday.

Published: Friday, September 27, 2013 at 6:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Thursday, September 26, 2013 at 7:40 p.m.

Bill Ford was below decks shining his shoes on the afternoon of Oct. 16, 1953. His ship, the USS Leyte, was undergoing conversion from an aircraft carrier to an antisubmarine carrier when an explosion in the port catapult machinery room shook the vessel to her keel.

Facts

USS Leyte reunion

The USS Leyte 2013 reunion will be held Oct. 3-5 at the Embassy Suites Orlando-Airport. For details, go to the Leyte Association website at http://www.ussleytecv32.com.

The ship, at dock in the Boston Naval Shipyard, was badly damaged. Nine officers, 23 enlisted men and five civilians were killed; 28 others were injured.

The vessel's clocks all stopped at 3:15 p.m.

"I was in the print shop, getting ready to go on liberty," recalled Ford, 82, of Ocala. "I heard this huge WHOMP and felt compression in my ears. General quarters started sounding 'This is not a drill. This is not a drill.' My shoe shining went out the window.

"I took off for the fo'c'sle, (forward upper deck) where I was in charge of a damage control party. As we got to the port hangar deck, there was another explosion. If we had been a minute earlier ..." Ford said.

According to Ford, some of the ship's hydraulic valves had been sent out for repair and one came back flawed. He believes that as the valves were being tested under pressure the hydraulic fluid heated up and caused the explosions and a fire.

"The smoke was so black. I've never seen anything so black. The air smelled like burnt skin, like burnt hydraulic fluid. People were yelling, 'We've gotta get 'em out, we've gotta get 'em out.' The pressure was so intense; the heat was so intense," he said.

Ford said because the explosions were in the catapult area, they impacted "officer's country." He said 11 stewards, who served the officers, were trapped below decks in a compartment with Lt. Leonard DeRose, who had been burned over 90 percent of his body.

DeRose was a decorated survivor of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, for which the USS Leyte had been named. He asked the men if any of them knew Morse Code so they could tap out an SOS, but none did.

The men found a metal rod and a stick and DeRose taught them to tap out "dot, dot, dot, dash, dash, dash, dot, dot, dot" on the bulkhead, Ford said. "If he hadn't known Morse Code, they'd never have gotten out," he said.

In a photo of the rescue efforts issued to media outlets that day, Ford can be seen carrying one corner of a stretcher on which DeRose is being removed from the ship.

"That picture of getting DeRose off the ship was how my mother found out I was alive," Ford said.

DeRose died later that night at a hospital.

"He was the real hero that day. He saved those men," Ford said. "He received a medal for bravery in the Battle of Leyte Gulf in WWII. He stayed in the reserves then got called back for Korea and died on the carrier named for that battle. That's just amazing."

***

Ford, born in St. Clairsville, Ohio, joined the U.S. Navy on Feb. 20, 1950. He served until Nov. 27, 1953, during the Korean War, in the Pentagon and onboard the Leyte, with ports of call including Cuba and Europe.

Although Ford was an accomplished musician and singer — he sang on the first "Navy Hour" TV show in 1951 — he wanted to broaden his skills and requested a rate change. He was assigned to the Leyte print shop, as a lithographer. He said he would make stationery and letterhead that he traded for better chow, such as T-bone steaks.

Ford said the ship could accommodate 1,400 personnel and that he did not know DeRose, but did have a friend who was killed in the explosion.

"We were playing Pinochle at lunch that day," he said, his eyes closing in remembrance.

"They scraped a lot of men off the bulkhead ..." he said somberly.

After leaving the service, Ford, a jack-of-all-trades, worked for a newspaper, studied medicine, was a leader in Boy Scouts of America, served on the inaugural committee of President John F. Kennedy, uncovered the largest Medicare fraud by a hospital in Florida, worked in public relations at Stetson University, owned a farm in Kentucky, befriended Col. Harlan Sanders of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame, and was named a Kentucky colonel by Gov. Martha Layne Collins.

He also became known for his wood carvings, conducted church and concert choirs, and sang with such groups as the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, London Symphony and Florida Symphony.

He and his wife, Arlene, moved to Ocala because they enjoy nature and wanted to be close to Disney World. Between them, they have five children, 15 grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren.

Arlene said Bill has worked for a long time compiling a history of the Leyte, especially the events surrounding the explosions. Bill said he wrote to President Barack Obama, the secretary of the Navy and others asking for recognition of the anniversary, but got little response.

"He has spent so much time on the computer, including writing to Washington. It's disappointing the 60th anniversary is not getting the attention it deserves," Arlene Ford said.

***

The Fords will not be among those attending a Leyte reunion Oct. 3-5 in Orlando, but John E. "Jack" Mitchell, president of the Leyte Association, will be there. He said the gatherings have been going on for 27 years.

Mitchell, 79, a native of Brooklyn, N.Y., served in the Navy from February 1952 to February 1955 as a seaman gunner's mate. He went aboard the Leyte in May 1952.

"I had been on fire watch in the forward part of the ship and had been released for leave that night," he said of Oct. 16, 1953. "I was one deck below the mess deck sitting in an office. After the first explosion, I tried to go up the ladder but everything was so smoke filled you just couldn't see."

Mitchell said he and some others holed up in an elevator hatch and that it was a few hours before anyone came to let them out.

"The man who took my fire watch, Jim Winslow, was killed," Mitchell said. "We mustered up to find out who was missing and that's when we knew he was gone."

Mitchell said because he was below ship so long he was not involved in any of the rescue efforts.

***

Clarence Grimley, 83, "a damn Yankee all my life" and now a resident of St. Augustine, was a yeoman in the engineer's office on the Leyte that fateful day.

"When the first explosion came, I was standing in front of a hatch door. It seems like yesterday that someone yelled, 'Man your battle stations.' I took off. The second explosion sucked the hatch door shut. When I settled down, nine decks down, my commander and lieutenant commander said I had missed death by three seconds. That's mighty close.

"When I came out later and topped the ladder, I was stepping over bodies. The odor was ungodly. It's something you never forget."

***

The Leyte had a long life, including distinguished service in the Korean War. She was the third ship in the Navy to bear the name and the 15th Essex class aircraft carrier. She was decommissioned in May 1959, stricken from the Navy list in June 1969, and sold for scrap in September 1970.

Even with that ignominious end, the Leyte remains revered by her sailors, among them Ocalans Charles P. Cava and Halley Bishop. Neither man was aboard at the time of the explosions.

Cava, 76, a native of Long Island, N.Y., said he always loved the Navy and was in the Blue Jackets, "like the Sea Scouts," as a youngster. He served on the Leyte from April 1956 to June 1958, including cruises to the Mediterranean, Caribbean, England, Portugal and Greece, as a radioman third-class.

After leaving the Navy, he worked for 36 years with Grumman Aerospace Corp. in New York. He said close friends relocated to Ocala and he and his wife visited and fell in love with the area, as well.

Cava said Ford has compiled a "good history of events" about the Leyte and that he is appreciative of his effort. He said he may attend the reunion, but his plans were not certain.

"The Leyte served well. I'm glad you are writing about her," he said.

Bishop, 90, was aboard the Leyte during the Korean War, but not when the ship was docked in Boston. He was born in North Carolina and joined the Navy at age 19. He was a medic.

"I got shot up in World War II like a lot of other kids," he said. He was hospitalized for three months before he reported back for duty.

He said he was having drinks one day with Jesse Brown, the Navy's first black aviator, at a hotel owned by Conrad Hilton. Among the guests was Hilton's wife, movie star Elizabeth Taylor. Bishop said he spoke to her and they struck up a conversation. The next day, she was on the Leyte to visit sick sailors when she saw him and called out, "Hi Halley. I see you made it back to the ship."

"They nearly fainted," Bishop said of the sailors standing near him.

Brown, who flew missions from the Leyte, was shot down over North Korea in December 1950. Capt. Thomas Hudner crashed his own plane to try to save Brown, but could not do so and had to leave the area, vowing to come back. Brown died at the scene.

In late July this year, Hudner, who received the Medal of Honor for trying to save Brown, was in Pyongyang, North Korea, hoping to find some trace of Brown's remains. To date, there has been no report that Hudner succeeded.

"She (Elizabeth Taylor) sent me and Jesse Brown a bottle of wine," Bishop said. "Now, I can't believe Hudner is trying to find his ashes."

After the service, Bishop said, he worked for NASA in Texas as an administrative officer. Of his 30 years in Ocala, he said, he is best known for his dancing skills.

Susan DeRose, the daughter of Lt. DeRose, is a restaurant owner in Atlanta. She maintains communication with Bill Ford, but attempts to reach her for this story were unsuccessful.

Contact Susan Smiley-Height at 867-4121 or susan.smiley-height@starbanner.com. Follow her on Twitter @ssmileyheight.

<p>Bill Ford was below decks shining his shoes on the afternoon of Oct. 16, 1953. His ship, the USS Leyte, was undergoing conversion from an aircraft carrier to an antisubmarine carrier when an explosion in the port catapult machinery room shook the vessel to her keel.</p><p>The ship, at dock in the Boston Naval Shipyard, was badly damaged. Nine officers, 23 enlisted men and five civilians were killed; 28 others were injured.</p><p>The vessel's clocks all stopped at 3:15 p.m.</p><p>"I was in the print shop, getting ready to go on liberty," recalled Ford, 82, of Ocala. "I heard this huge WHOMP and felt compression in my ears. General quarters started sounding 'This is not a drill. This is not a drill.' My shoe shining went out the window.</p><p>"I took off for the fo'c'sle, (forward upper deck) where I was in charge of a damage control party. As we got to the port hangar deck, there was another explosion. If we had been a minute earlier ..." Ford said.</p><p>According to Ford, some of the ship's hydraulic valves had been sent out for repair and one came back flawed. He believes that as the valves were being tested under pressure the hydraulic fluid heated up and caused the explosions and a fire.</p><p>"The smoke was so black. I've never seen anything so black. The air smelled like burnt skin, like burnt hydraulic fluid. People were yelling, 'We've gotta get 'em out, we've gotta get 'em out.' The pressure was so intense; the heat was so intense," he said.</p><p>Ford said because the explosions were in the catapult area, they impacted "officer's country." He said 11 stewards, who served the officers, were trapped below decks in a compartment with Lt. Leonard DeRose, who had been burned over 90 percent of his body.</p><p>DeRose was a decorated survivor of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, for which the USS Leyte had been named. He asked the men if any of them knew Morse Code so they could tap out an SOS, but none did.</p><p>The men found a metal rod and a stick and DeRose taught them to tap out "dot, dot, dot, dash, dash, dash, dot, dot, dot" on the bulkhead, Ford said. "If he hadn't known Morse Code, they'd never have gotten out," he said.</p><p>In a photo of the rescue efforts issued to media outlets that day, Ford can be seen carrying one corner of a stretcher on which DeRose is being removed from the ship.</p><p>"That picture of getting DeRose off the ship was how my mother found out I was alive," Ford said.</p><p>DeRose died later that night at a hospital.</p><p>"He was the real hero that day. He saved those men," Ford said. "He received a medal for bravery in the Battle of Leyte Gulf in WWII. He stayed in the reserves then got called back for Korea and died on the carrier named for that battle. That's just amazing."</p><p><center><b>***</b></center></p><p>Ford, born in St. Clairsville, Ohio, joined the U.S. Navy on Feb. 20, 1950. He served until Nov. 27, 1953, during the Korean War, in the Pentagon and onboard the Leyte, with ports of call including Cuba and Europe.</p><p>Although Ford was an accomplished musician and singer — he sang on the first "Navy Hour" TV show in 1951 — he wanted to broaden his skills and requested a rate change. He was assigned to the Leyte print shop, as a lithographer. He said he would make stationery and letterhead that he traded for better chow, such as T-bone steaks.</p><p>Ford said the ship could accommodate 1,400 personnel and that he did not know DeRose, but did have a friend who was killed in the explosion.</p><p>"We were playing Pinochle at lunch that day," he said, his eyes closing in remembrance.</p><p>"They scraped a lot of men off the bulkhead ..." he said somberly.</p><p>After leaving the service, Ford, a jack-of-all-trades, worked for a newspaper, studied medicine, was a leader in Boy Scouts of America, served on the inaugural committee of President John F. Kennedy, uncovered the largest Medicare fraud by a hospital in Florida, worked in public relations at Stetson University, owned a farm in Kentucky, befriended Col. Harlan Sanders of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame, and was named a Kentucky colonel by Gov. Martha Layne Collins.</p><p>He also became known for his wood carvings, conducted church and concert choirs, and sang with such groups as the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, London Symphony and Florida Symphony.</p><p>He and his wife, Arlene, moved to Ocala because they enjoy nature and wanted to be close to Disney World. Between them, they have five children, 15 grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren.</p><p>Arlene said Bill has worked for a long time compiling a history of the Leyte, especially the events surrounding the explosions. Bill said he wrote to President Barack Obama, the secretary of the Navy and others asking for recognition of the anniversary, but got little response.</p><p>"He has spent so much time on the computer, including writing to Washington. It's disappointing the 60th anniversary is not getting the attention it deserves," Arlene Ford said.</p><p><center><b>***</b></center></p><p>The Fords will not be among those attending a Leyte reunion Oct. 3-5 in Orlando, but John E. "Jack" Mitchell, president of the Leyte Association, will be there. He said the gatherings have been going on for 27 years.</p><p>Mitchell, 79, a native of Brooklyn, N.Y., served in the Navy from February 1952 to February 1955 as a seaman gunner's mate. He went aboard the Leyte in May 1952.</p><p>"I had been on fire watch in the forward part of the ship and had been released for leave that night," he said of Oct. 16, 1953. "I was one deck below the mess deck sitting in an office. After the first explosion, I tried to go up the ladder but everything was so smoke filled you just couldn't see."</p><p>Mitchell said he and some others holed up in an elevator hatch and that it was a few hours before anyone came to let them out.</p><p>"The man who took my fire watch, Jim Winslow, was killed," Mitchell said. "We mustered up to find out who was missing and that's when we knew he was gone."</p><p>Mitchell said because he was below ship so long he was not involved in any of the rescue efforts.</p><p><center><b>***</b></center></p><p>Clarence Grimley, 83, "a damn Yankee all my life" and now a resident of St. Augustine, was a yeoman in the engineer's office on the Leyte that fateful day.</p><p>"When the first explosion came, I was standing in front of a hatch door. It seems like yesterday that someone yelled, 'Man your battle stations.' I took off. The second explosion sucked the hatch door shut. When I settled down, nine decks down, my commander and lieutenant commander said I had missed death by three seconds. That's mighty close.</p><p>"When I came out later and topped the ladder, I was stepping over bodies. The odor was ungodly. It's something you never forget."</p><p><center><b>***</b></center></p><p>The Leyte had a long life, including distinguished service in the Korean War. She was the third ship in the Navy to bear the name and the 15th Essex class aircraft carrier. She was decommissioned in May 1959, stricken from the Navy list in June 1969, and sold for scrap in September 1970.</p><p>Even with that ignominious end, the Leyte remains revered by her sailors, among them Ocalans Charles P. Cava and Halley Bishop. Neither man was aboard at the time of the explosions.</p><p>Cava, 76, a native of Long Island, N.Y., said he always loved the Navy and was in the Blue Jackets, "like the Sea Scouts," as a youngster. He served on the Leyte from April 1956 to June 1958, including cruises to the Mediterranean, Caribbean, England, Portugal and Greece, as a radioman third-class.</p><p>After leaving the Navy, he worked for 36 years with Grumman Aerospace Corp. in New York. He said close friends relocated to Ocala and he and his wife visited and fell in love with the area, as well.</p><p>Cava said Ford has compiled a "good history of events" about the Leyte and that he is appreciative of his effort. He said he may attend the reunion, but his plans were not certain.</p><p>"The Leyte served well. I'm glad you are writing about her," he said.</p><p>Bishop, 90, was aboard the Leyte during the Korean War, but not when the ship was docked in Boston. He was born in North Carolina and joined the Navy at age 19. He was a medic.</p><p>"I got shot up in World War II like a lot of other kids," he said. He was hospitalized for three months before he reported back for duty.</p><p>He said he was having drinks one day with Jesse Brown, the Navy's first black aviator, at a hotel owned by Conrad Hilton. Among the guests was Hilton's wife, movie star Elizabeth Taylor. Bishop said he spoke to her and they struck up a conversation. The next day, she was on the Leyte to visit sick sailors when she saw him and called out, "Hi Halley. I see you made it back to the ship."</p><p>"They nearly fainted," Bishop said of the sailors standing near him.</p><p>Brown, who flew missions from the Leyte, was shot down over North Korea in December 1950. Capt. Thomas Hudner crashed his own plane to try to save Brown, but could not do so and had to leave the area, vowing to come back. Brown died at the scene.</p><p>In late July this year, Hudner, who received the Medal of Honor for trying to save Brown, was in Pyongyang, North Korea, hoping to find some trace of Brown's remains. To date, there has been no report that Hudner succeeded.</p><p>"She (Elizabeth Taylor) sent me and Jesse Brown a bottle of wine," Bishop said. "Now, I can't believe Hudner is trying to find his ashes."</p><p>After the service, Bishop said, he worked for NASA in Texas as an administrative officer. Of his 30 years in Ocala, he said, he is best known for his dancing skills.</p><p>Susan DeRose, the daughter of Lt. DeRose, is a restaurant owner in Atlanta. She maintains communication with Bill Ford, but attempts to reach her for this story were unsuccessful.</p><p><i>Contact Susan Smiley-Height at 867-4121 or susan.smiley-height@starbanner.com. Follow her on Twitter @ssmileyheight.</i></p>